THE STAR SPANGLED HUSTLE

Exactly who's hustling whom is not entirely obvious at the outset of this autobiography of Bob Grant, a thirtyish black Republican who was born into middling poverty on Long Island, small-jobbed through adolescence, got the white white-collar fever early in high school, spent a freshman year at Adelphi College where he began digging white chicks (from the not too fine Jewish Marcia to the very fine Pat whose daddy was a prominent judge), soon split for the University of Stockholm where he in time received a doctorate and balled many Swedish chicks (Ingrid, Gunilla who had fine legs, Inga who was a mature 40 or 45 but was fine all the same), beat up a few white dudes en route, organized and promoted a UNICEF gala featuring Sammy Davis Jr. and Ingrid Bergman (""WHEEEEEEEE!""), did a little undercover surveillance work for the US Embassy re Communist infiltration of student groups in Sweden, signed on in 1968 as the only ""nigger"" member of the European Republican Committee (friends: ""How the fuck can you work for Nixon?"" Grant: ""Black capitalism, baby. That's where it's at."") came home to work on the Model Cities Program out of HUD, continued screwing white chicks (""Black chicks try to put you in a box after the first couple of dates""), met a lot of important people (Senator Packwood is a ""relaxed, cool dude""; Dan Rather's the cat being groomed to replace Walter Cronkite), got fired from his job for venturing modest criticism of Nixon's domestic program during a KPIX interview, was out of work for a long time thereafter and still is, tried to interest GOP liberals in forming an ADA-type Americans for Republican Responsibility (no takers), is now $10,000 in debt with his furniture in storage waiting for a big foundation or government position to come along. Grant's not red, not white, not blue -- just a dude hustling his color. (Not to be confused with Glaustein & Faux's The Star-Spangled Hustle to be published by Doubleday on September 15, p. 829.)